Juxtaposition
by follow-the-lemming
Summary: Harry and Draco find themselves plagued by classmates swooning over their counterparts. Subsequently agitated, they both decide to take things into their own hands. Literally and figuratively. ;)


Prologue  
  
The Boy Who Lived didn't need to be gorgeous. He had everything else. Girls and guys alike would have jumped at the chance to spend even a day with him, regardless of the number of pimples on his face (none, if you were wondering.) The Boy Who Lived who Defeated Voldemort and Changed The World With Everything Capitalised To Boot didn't need to be the Sexiest Wizard Of The Year.  
  
That was supposed to be me.  
  
~*¢*~  
  
Now, not many people are better looking than Harry. It isn't fair that he's got to have looks as well as everything else people know him for, but he does. Harry is one divine child, it must be said. He's not a short, gangly boy with broken glasses. Not anymore. A body better than any Greek god, hair a la just-been-fucked, huge green eyes with eyelashes any girl would die for, full lips and an aristocratic nose. By Merlin, he's TALL now. He's tanned, he's toned, he's every girl and boy's dream. I don't fancy him, if that's what you're thinking. Call me a nonconformist. Besides, Ron is everything I need, and you know what they say, thou shalt not covet. But if I were to say that anyone was better looking than Harry. I would have to say, rather reluctantly,  
  
~*¢*~  
  
Draco Malfoy. Why, why, why? Not only does he have to be the single most annoying bloke I've ever met, he also has to be ten times more attractive than anyone in my family line has ever been. What's worse, he knows it! He walks around the place with a gaggle of girls trailing him (guys, too) and he flaunts his every redeeming feature sashaying down the hall like he's on a catwalk for Versace (wizard branch, of course.) Bugger it, some people have all the luck. If it weren't for Hermione, I think I'd kill him in cold blood, just to get rid of the competition. Then again.if I were to base murder on that, I'd have just as much reason to kill Harry. And we certainly can't have that. Why, the entire female population of Hogwarts would perish in a moment from heartbreak.  
  
~*¢*~  
  
It is Merlin's joke on me that the one person who galls me more than anyone else has to have the finest ass I've seen on anyone this side of Jupiter. Damn, Hogwarts is turning into one big bloody Romeo and Juliet. Shakespeare must be rolling over in his grave. Bugger it, bugger it all.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------  
  
Part I-In Which There Is Agitation, Consternation, and Relocation  
  
"Fit, isn't he?"  
  
"What?" Harry, startled, regarded Hermione with an eyebrow quirked. "Who?"  
  
"You should know, you've been goggling in his direction for the better part of an hour." Hermione smiled, guilefully, stretching long legs out in front of her with a nonchalant sigh. "Don't tell me you have no idea what I'm talking about."  
  
Harry, irked at having been caught, narrowed his eyes and replied rather like a boy who has been accused of stealing from the cookie jar. "No, I haven't. I haven't got the slightest clue what you're masquerading on about. Whoever said that Malfoy was fit?" A guilty boy, at that.  
  
"Oh, no one. No one at all." Hermione folded her legs underneath her and promptly resumed stirring the neglected lime green potion that bubbled indignantly in front of them. A pause followed as they finished preparing the potion, Harry scowling at his partner, who was stirring blissfully.  
  
It was Harry who finally broke the silence with a loud exclamation, "Fine! You're bloody right! I do think he's-" that ended in an abrupt and self- conscious whisper, "hot. I think Malfoy's hot."  
  
Hermione, after the initial jump at his ejaculation, continued to stir and replied in stride, "Well, of course you do. The rest of the school does as well, haven't you noticed?"  
  
Pause. "Well. No," Harry paused again to ponder this new piece of information. "But he's Malfoy, for God's sake! Would you slap your arch enemy then bugger him senseless?"  
  
Hermione tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and looked at Harry sideways, with something other than superiority (at last). "No. I don't fancy him. Certainly not. But," and the smirk came back, "what can I say? I have an eye for beautiful things."  
  
Harry harrumphed and sat back in his chair, an expression quite nearing on a pout drawn on a crimson mouth. He was not aware that he was staring at Malfoy again until he realized the other boy was looking back at him with the most arrogant of smirks, and then he also became aware of how sexy arrogant prats could be.  
  
Harry scowled.  
  
~*¢*~  
  
"Oh, my," Pansy sighed dramatically. "I do so wish that Potter took to us Slytherins more. It seems such a dreadful loss sometimes."  
  
Draco raised one eyebrow lazily. "What *are* you going on about?"  
  
Pansy made a sound of exasperation that quite contrasted her dreamy reminisces. "Potter. Look at him.. His eyes, his hair.." She swooned. "His scar."  
  
"What *of* them, Pansy dearest?" Draco sang, smiling forcefully, with a flutter of eyelashes for the finishing effect.  
  
Pansy fairly screeched. "Look at him! Even you," here she paused for emphasis, "cannot deny that Harry Potter is not the most-er, one of the most-shaggable boys in Hogwarts."  
  
This was met with a baleful glare. "Pansy," Draco drawled. "watch me."  
  
~*¢*~  
  
"Harry, what are you staring at? Harry? HARRY!"  
  
He blinked. "Yes?"  
  
"WHAT are you-"  
  
"He's staring at Malfoy, of course," Hermione cut in sagely, before either Ron or Harry could finish.  
  
Ron gaped, steak and kidney pie parading about in its new redesigned appearance within his mouth.  
  
Harry mumbled something that sounded like, "Not again.."  
  
"Honestly, Harry, this is a bit much.." Hermione scolded as she buttered her roll, a twinkle in her eye rather dimming the McGonagall effect. "We all agree wholeheartedly that Malfoy is worth ogling-stop choking, Ron, I've seen you do it too-but twice in one day? Really, Harry. There is a limit."  
  
Harry thought bugger the limit so long as he could figure out why exactly he'd gotten anywhere near it, much less broken it so badly it couldn't be fixed by Merlin himself. And as Hermione chattered away distantly and Harry noticed a platinum head saunter out of the hall, he decided he mightn't as well find out.  
  
~*¢*~  
  
Draco was in a baleful mood at dinnertime. Truthfully, he was in a baleful mood most of the time, but he reckoned this one was crafting itself a migraine with every passing swallow of pumpkin juice. Nevertheless, he forced himself to make conversation with Blaise, as yes, it did indeed seem as if it might snow tomorrow and did he fancy a snowball fight?  
  
It was all going fairly well until Blaise remarked suddenly, "Don't you think that Potter-"  
  
Oh hell. Not Potter, not bloody POTTER  
  
"-has rather lovely eyes?"  
  
The migraine was fully formed and bugling its arrival.  
  
"No, actually, not really," Draco replied, Forced Can't-You-See-I'm-Faking- It Smile making its second appearance of the day. *Actually, you do, except you don't like everyone else thinking so because you saw him first.* said the soft, fuzzy, annoying-as-fuck side of Draco. "Whyever would you say so?"  
  
"I don't know, I just happened to notice," He-Draco couldn't believe his eyes-squealed. "Oh look, Draco! He's staring right at us!"  
  
"Yes, I do believe that's what eyes do, Blaise," Draco replied, wondering exactly where all his sane friends had gone, and loathing the ones slobbering over HIS enemy. Not theirs.  
  
"D'you reckon he might be looking at me?!" Blaise continued giddily. "Oh dear, I do hope that I look all right-"  
  
"Blaise."  
  
"-go and get me a comb, Malcolm, that's a good lad-"  
  
"Blaise."  
  
"-and please do hurry, yes, anything you want-"  
  
"BLAISE!"  
  
He blinked. "Yes?"  
  
Draco was already walking away from the Slytherin table.  
  
~*¢*~  
  
O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?  
  
They (and by they I mean the odd occasional so-and-so's with Shakespeare fixations) say Juliet isn't asking where Romeo is, but why he is.  
  
I know exactly where you are, you little bugger-and I'd give anything to figure out WHY you are, you sod, and what exactly you hexed me with to make me this bloody obsessed. It can't JUST be your ass.  
  
~*¢*~  
  
Potter, if by turning all my Slytherin 'compatriots' against me you are deliberately attempting to make my life a living hell, I don't care how gorgeous the school thinks you are, I will personally curse you to Voldemort and back JUST to see my ickle Slytherin mates faint in horror.  
  
You just watch me. And I know you are.  
  
~*¢*~  
  
Personally, I think it's rather sweet. Lovelorn enemies refusing to acknowledge their passionate feelings for each other, burying it and confusing it for hate instead, oh, the angst, the ANGST-  
  
if only it wasn't the two most shaggable boys in Hogwarts..  
  
~*¢*~  
  
Goddamn, why are there so many goddamn poofs in this goddamn school?!  
  
I'm beginning to feel like I am abnormal to be straight.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------  
  
Part II- In Which There Is Confrontation, Masturbation, and Forni-wait. Nevermind.  
  
Draco leaned heavily against the pillar in the empty corridor, feeling rather like the entire school of Hogwarts was becoming a shrine for Harry Potter. Sure, he'd known squillions of classmates who lusted after the lucky sod (damn those Hufflepuffs), but since when had his own House become enamoured of the stupid bloke? He sighed and loosened his tie, unbuttoning his robes and subsequently his collar. He was only just working himself up to another tirade when he was aware of footsteps coming round the next bend. And a voice, a melted-chocolate-weak-knee voice.  
  
"I was sure he came down this way.."  
  
The chants of not-bloody-Potter-not-bloody-Potter stopped abruptly. *Looking for me, are you, Potter? *  
  
*We certainly can't let you go unmet, now can we?*  
  
~*¢*~  
  
Harry was confused. This hall, a rather gothic arrangement of tall, foreboding stone pillars and gargoyles, ended a long bit away in the Arithmancy classrooms and had no other corridors branching from it. And he was completely certain he had seen Malfoy round this corner. So where was he?  
  
"Now, now, Potter.talking to yourself isn't healthy."  
  
He whirled about, saw nothing, whirled again and nearly tripped on his robes. What the hell?  
  
"Here I am, Potter," came the slow, arrogant drawl from behind his ear. He whirled.  
  
"Oh no, not quite." Slow as molasses (damn freezing molasses, at that) and sexy as hell, tickling his neck. Harry twisted round again and struck out at the air, only to find emptiness and a tantalizing whiff of something utterly alluring.  
  
"Fuck, Malfoy, what are you doing?"  
  
"Oh, but my dear sir, I think the question is what are YOU doing."  
  
And suddenly he was there.  
  
~*¢*~  
  
Draco flicked his wand and leaned back against the stone pillar and hoped he didn't look like he felt. Calm, Malfoy. Smooth. On top of the world.  
  
Malfoys always know what they're doing. They always have a plan.  
  
Draco was wondering when his would scream Eureka.  
  
~*¢*~  
  
Harry tried not to gape.  
  
Draco Malfoy leaned against a stone pillar with a seductive air that could have gotten him arrested for inappropriate conduct. Harry's eyes traveled over the open collar that gave him a peek at creamy, utterly smooth skin, the loosened tie that put in one's mind illicit snogs in dark closets, the gray trousers, bottom half of a blatantly pricey suit that accentuated slim hips and put much more than just snogs in mind.  
  
He twirled a wand lazily between tapered fingers and Harry belatedly sussed out the disappearing act.  
  
There was a momentary silence in which Malfoy (not Draco, not Draco) regarded him amusedly, and Harry suddenly realized he would do well to speak.  
  
"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry spit out as nastily as he could muster.  
  
Malfoy raised an immaculate eyebrow. "Really, Potter.. when I last checked, *you* were the one looking for *me*.not the other way round." He added, as if Harry were too dense to comprehend.  
  
Oh, yeah.  
  
"Oh.." Harry was stumped. "Well.."  
  
Shit.  
  
~*¢*~  
  
Draco rather liked seeing Harry's discomfit. Mind, he liked seeing most people's discomfit, but this was a special case indeed (especially as he was usually not discomfited himself).  
  
In a sudden rush of mischief that was suspiciously akin to benevolence, or perhaps vice versa, Draco decided a game was in order.  
  
Not because he wanted to save Harry from humiliation, of course. Humiliation was always his objective.  
  
Wasn't it?  
  
~*¢*~  
  
While Harry was still trying to figure out how best to go about his unfortunate situation, he became aware of one corner of Malfoy's mouth tugging into a smirk. Bugger, Harry thought belatedly, as the boy spoke.  
  
"My, my, what I've heard of you, Harry." Harry gave a jump at hearing his given name. He watched in bated fascination as Malfoy pushed himself up and sauntered slowly closer. "It seems that you've managed to seduce even my closest classmates." Harry didn't process this, because suddenly Malfoy was mere inches from him, and he was terrified by the dizzy drunkenness the other boy's body heat gave him. "Oh, what I've heard.." Draco-Malfoy- repeated slowly again, breath misting across Harry's mouth. Harry could only stare helplessly into pale eyes as the boy traced a perfectly tapered finger down the bridge of his nose. "That nose.." Draco mimicked, sweetly, caressing the feature. He brushed his fingers across a berry-stained mouth. "Those lips.." He leaned in and Harry held his breath; he cupped Harry's face in both hands and swept his thumbs across the cheekbones.. "Those eyes.." And Draco's face was too close for Harry to make out clearly. "That scar." And Draco kissed it, and Harry felt nothing but.  
  
~*¢*~  
  
Draco stood gasping underneath the scorching rain of the shower, leaning against the tile wall like he was being fucked into it, and bloody well hoping for it as well. He thrust slowly into his fist, with barely controlled lust, arching his back and wishing desperately to be anywhere but doing this, and feeling this. He closed his eyes and saw black hair; his eyes snapped open and he gyrated hard against his hand. He pressed his other hand against the tile, struggling, eyes falling shut. The bridge of glasses, blurred by closeness, all too clear. He arched and tension lanced from the roots of his hair to his toes, and his eyes opened and he swore.  
  
And he came, and his eyes shut.  
  
And he saw Harry Potter.  
  
~*¢*~  
  
Fuck, said Harry.  
  
What the hell? He felt rather like someone had shoved his head in a toilet and flushed. He thought of his touch, his voice, his kiss, and he closed his eyes in remembrance. He thought of his drawl, his swank, and he opened his eyes in humiliation.  
  
~And Draco kissed his scar, and Harry could feel nothing but.  
  
And, just as suddenly as it had come, Draco-Malfoy-was gone. Harry opened his eyes and found Malfoy's smug expression, and he thought irrelevantly that he had never seen even Mrs. Figg's cats look quite that smug.  
  
"And have you gotten what you wanted, Malfoy?" He heard himself say, from a source he was utterly unknown to.. "Is what people say true?"  
  
"Oh, no, Harry. Never." He replied, cool, sardonic, a twitch at the corner of his mouth.  
  
And Harry could find no answer more appropriate.~  
  
~*¢*~  
  
Now, Harry claims there wasn't any shag, but I might have believed him more if he'd said Voldemort was dancing a jig in the Gryffindor common room and would we like to see. Harry's face was flushed, he wouldn't meet anyone's eye, and he rushed up to his room before you could say 'was he good?' If you can find any signs more obvious, could you please let me know?  
  
~*¢*~  
  
I think Harry finally got some, the stupid bloke. And the thing is, why wouldn't he? It's not like he'd have any TROUBLE.. Oh, wait til this gets out. I wonder who it was?  
  
Oh.  
  
No, don't say it. My dinner is fine in my stomach, thanks.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------  
  
Part III- In Which There Is Precipitation, Rumination, and Forni-oops.  
  
Apart from the odd, knowing (and sometimes faintly nauseous) looks that Harry kept getting, it really was quite a nice day, regardless of the gray skies. Not considering the massive headache Harry was getting from overanalysing his encounter with the Slytherin Ice Prince, the day was rather good, actually. Not taking into account that snow was floating whimsically down to the ground, the castle and its grounds were wholly blanketed in the fluffy white stuff, but Harry STILL had to go to Potions. it really was a pleasant day.  
  
Pleasant, my arse, said Harry.  
  
~*¢*~  
  
Draco had the upperhand and he knew it.  
  
No matter that he might be developing feelings for Potter-feelings? No, you stupid sod, Malfoys didn't have feelings. Malfoys were cold, Malfoys were distant, and Malfoys did not spend hours musing over black tousled hair and pickled-toad eyes. Draco Malfoy was not developing any undue feelings.  
  
He had the upperhand, goddammit, and he was buggered if he thought he wasn't going to use it.  
  
~*¢*~  
  
"Ron, you prat!" Harry shouted, half in anger and half in glee as he tore after the ginger-haired villain, snow dripping down the collar of his robes. Bugger Potions, Potions was over, and it was the very last class before the hols. Gleefully he hit the boy running and they tumbled into the snow in a flurry of white, nearly overturning Hermione and earning both appraisal and disapproval from the classmates surrounding them. It was not until Ron let out a muffled bellow that sounded rather like a diseased cow that Harry finally let him up, at which time Ron spluttered and wheezed and completed the image of Diseased Cow.  
  
"You crazy twit!" Ron sputtered out, wiping snow from his neck and face and performing a drying spell. "I could have died.."  
  
"Sure, sure.." Harry replied, grinning at his disgruntled companion. "You'd have been the second, then-how would it have felt, being second to Voldemort?"  
  
Ron started to say something, but the words were lost on Harry as he spotted a familiar head, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. Quickly he scooped up another handful of snow and called out "Malfoy!"  
  
It was a brilliant shot, he said modestly. He chucked it while the boy was still turning and his reactions, though keen, weren't quite fast enough. Harry let out a delighted laugh, watching as it hit him on the neck as he ducked and disintegrated on contact, slipping neatly into his collar. He had only time to muse that this had the potential to look flirty, but no, he was merely trying to get Malfoy cold and bothered, before Malfoy slung a snowball back at him and he had to duck to avoid it smacking into his face.  
  
"Rubbish!" he taunted, spreading his hands wide apart and grinning. "I'm all yours, Malfoy."  
  
It didn't occur to him at the time how very come-hither the comment could sound.  
  
~*¢*~  
  
Draco whipped around at the sharp call of his name and had only just registered Potter before the nasty, cold, wet, disgusting mass of snow slid down his shirt. Damn. Before he got seriously cold he was down and up in an instant, slinging a chunk in retaliation and cursing when it missed. Damn those Seeker reflexes.  
  
Draco heard his taunt vaguely while muttering bitterly at the cold snow melting through his shirt. It was not until a moment later that he heard the smooth, arrogant words that followed.  
  
*Are you all mine, Harry?* Potter, not Harry. Potter. *We'll see then.*  
  
And he hurled himself towards the expectant boy.  
  
~*¢*~  
  
Harry blinked once and the blond boy was upon him, flinging both of them into the snow behind him. "Mmph!"  
  
They tusseled for a bit, rolling over and over in the snow until finally Draco was on top once more and sneering down at Harry. *How in the world does he manage to look spotless after we've just rolled about in dirty snow wrestling the living daylights out of each other?* Harry wondered briefly before he found himself being thoroughly snogged by-was it really Malfoy?  
  
He heard distantly Ron and Hermione's cries as one of Malfoy's hands-ooh- found its way into his shirt, and he was very vaguely aware of other hands grabbing at Malfoy that were not his or Draco's and the boy grunting in irritation and suddenly-  
  
POP.  
  
~*¢*~  
  
The boy had a rather nice body, Draco decided, especially when one was pressed up against it. Very well endowed. He shoved one hand into Harry's hair, tilting his head back as he kissed him, and the other snaked its way into the boy's shirt, sliding seductively up his side. Harry made a small noise of appreciation and Draco sniggered. *A bit desperate, aren't we now?* He thought, and then winced at the word 'we'. The wince didn't leave, in fact, as he felt hands and arms tugging at his robes and loud, indignant cries very close to his ear. Damn them.  
  
But Draco decided he was loathe to stop this little snog-fest, and he be damned if he was going to.  
  
~*¢*~  
  
POP.  
  
Harry suddenly found himself pinned against a warm, fluffy duvet which was certainly not the same as cold, wet snow. "What the hell?" he mumbled as his eyes opened into the grey, slightly amused eyes of Draco Malfoy.  
  
"Apparition is not the only method of transportation, Potter," Draco drawled, straddling Harry's hips and resting his hands lightly on the boy's chest. "Excuse me if your little friends were bothering me just the little bit." Harry only shook his head mutely. "Very well, then.. if you're not going to talk, you might as well do something else."  
  
And Harry very well did.  
  
It was not until they were both shirtless and panting that Harry sat bolt upright, throwing Draco to the side, and fumbled for his glasses. "Malfoy, what are we doing?"  
  
Draco replied dryly, "Well, usually they call it shagging, but you could also do with fucking, screwing, having sex, or," he paused to smirk, "making love."  
  
"Yes, but-" Harry stopped, looking slightly bemused. *Well, what could he blackmail me with? I'm certainly not stooping very low*, and his eyes ran an appraising lap over Draco's bare torso, *and if you ask me he's the one who would be ashamed if this ever got out.* So he looped an arm around the proud slender neck and pulled him back down to the bed.  
  
~*¢*~  
  
They've been gone for a very long time. I hope Malfoy isn't a necrophiliac.  
  
~*¢*~  
  
Oh, gag me. Gag me with a pitchfork.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------  
  
Part IV-In Which There Is..Fornication!  
  
Harry was not a half bad kisser, Draco reflected as calloused hands palmed their way up his back. Not bad at all. He felt one leg wrap solidly around his hips to push them closer together and he rolled his hips into the hardness beneath him, arching at the dart of pleasure (no pun intended, of course). He rolled over, bringing the boy (who was still snogging contentedly) over him and slid his hands firmly over Harry's arse, pressing still harder into the undoubtedly bruised but very eager crotch. Harry moaned softly and Draco grinned into the kiss, never mind that Harry's hands were buried in his hair, mussing it beyond repair. He bucked once more and Harry whimpered softly and froze. The room was very still for a moment or two, in which time Draco mused over whether to make a smart comment about Harry's endurance, or perhaps just to snap at him and tell him to get on with it already.  
  
Suddenly, as if in renewed vigour, Harry's lips were gone and instead latched themselves onto Draco's neck. He yelped, startled, then began to writhe under the tantalizing mouth. Oh, dear.. He began to feel his thin veil of control slipping as he arched gently into the touch, eyes shut and mouth open, panting softly.  
  
Yes, his control was definitely going fast, Draco ruminated, as talented mouth found his nipple and was avidly sucking, biting and laving, obviously very proud of the reactions he was receiving (writhing, bucking, and a plethora of "Damn, Potter!") He stood it for a moment more and finally gasped out harshly, "Are you a tease or do you intend to finish the job, Potter?"  
  
He did indeed, Draco found, as the boy kissed his belly and licked the crease just above the button of his trousers. Suddenly his trousers were gone and-  
  
Oh *my*.  
  
~*¢*~  
  
Harry found he rather liked it when he had his arch-nemesis begging and pleading for release. Granted, he still sounded impossibly sure of himself and confident as all hell, but those things tended to get offset by the size of the hard-on in Harry's mouth.  
  
"Potter.please." Malfoy was moaning, as Harry drew patterns and mused whether he could draw his name in the length. "You fucking tease.."  
  
Ah, well, suppose it had better be sooner than later, for fear of disembowelment. Harry set about to sucking the life out of Malfoy through his prick, and damn well came near gauging from the reaction. "Nnngh.." Draco sounded rather like the kind of TV show that made Aunt Petunia tut and snap at Harry to get off the bed, the spoiled brat. "Taci-" Draco broke off, moaning, then rasped, "taciturnitas.." (puzzling-a spell?) and almost immediately he let out a yell that startled Harry almost into stopping, but not quite, as Malfoy seized his hair and forced him to continue. Shortly thereafter, the boy came with a gasp, (was that his *given* name that Draco had forced out?) and fell limp against the pillows, eyes closed.  
  
Whew.  
  
~*¢*~  
  
Draco lay against the pillows, trying to control his breathing and suddenly missing the feel of the other boy.  
  
"You'd better hope no one heard your little performance just now," came his voice from somewhere above him, smugly. He heard the grin in Harry's voice and wanted to thump him-or perhaps fuck. He couldn't decide which.  
  
He kept his eyes closed, but his voice, he noted proudly, sounded none the different from the voice that taunted Harry when they were clothed. "Stop being a prat, Potter-I cast a silencing spell round the bed. Honestly. Your ignorance never fails to surprise me."  
  
"Really, now?" Harry replied easily, undaunted by his slip. "I'd gathered that the great Draco Malfoy couldn't be surprised by anything."  
  
"I expect you're my only exception, Potter." *Merlin, I could kill myself for that one. Damn.*  
  
Draco opened his eyes.  
  
~*¢*~  
  
Draco opened his eyes and Harry was faintly startled by the intensity of his gaze. "Come here."  
  
Harry obeyed, crawling over the divine body to lean over the other boy. Draco reached up and pressed his lips to Harry's, shocking Harry out of countenance by the gentleness of his gesture. This was not an arch-nemesis kiss. This was most definitely not a Malfoy kiss. But, oh, was it heavenly. Harry relaxed into it and fell flush against Draco's body, smiling a bit when he felt smooth hands travel up his body and settle against his shoulder blades, kneading softly.  
  
This couldn't be Malfoy..  
  
Harry broke away suddenly and frowned, green eyes searching gray. "Are you Malfoy?" he asked suspiciously, a niggling thought in the back of his mind suggesting the question sounded rather daft.  
  
"Potter.." Malfoy's eyes were almost amused. "You just undressed me with your teeth and gave me one of the most thorough blow-jobs I've ever had, and you are now asking me if I'm Draco Lucius Malfoy?"  
  
"Well.." Harry felt rather stupid. "Yes, I suppose so."  
  
"You've got to be the most adorably stupid twit I've ever met." Quite disbelievingly, Harry watched as the boy got calmly out of the bed, pulled down the duvet, and climbed back in, all as if this were a night (was it really night already?) like any other, and not one in which 2+2 now equaled 45. He did, however, notice a distinct blush powdering Draco's cheeks, and could not help but wonder if that was only a post-coital effect. He couldn't be sure.  
  
~*¢*~  
  
Draco wondered in amusement when his pet was going to realize he was sitting starkers on the bed muttering to himself. Eventually, Harry blinked at him and smiled a quirky little half smile, and Draco asked, "Well, are you going to get in or not?"  
  
Harry complied obediently, and it wasn't until they were coddled up against each other and Draco was almost asleep that he was muzzily aware of Harry's murmur, "Don't you think this is a bit strange..?"  
  
Draco didn't think much of replying and he wasn't entirely sure he was aware of what he was saying, but he mumbled back, "Yes, very, but they say sexual tension can be misinterpreted as hate.."  
  
There was a slight rumble of laughter, then only the softness of white cotton pillows and silky black hair.  
  
Draco had a very daft dream sometime during the night. He dreamt that Harry was telling him it was time to get up, he had Divinations homework to do, but he held onto Harry, asked him to stay five more minutes, the homework wasn't due until after the hols, and didn't he drop Divinations in fourth year anyway? And Harry kissed him and said okay, Sleeping Beauty, dream on.  
  
~*¢*~  
  
He's staying the night! He's staying the night, the old slag! I don't believe it. And he's not even getting up to see us off. Really. I'm a bit insulted.. Draco Malfoy over us? I never knew it'd come to this, really, but if he must.  
  
Can't say I'd ever get out of bed with Ron to see HIM off somewhere.. but don't tell anyone..  
  
~*¢*~  
  
Fine. You know what? I don't want to be friends with a poof, anyway.  
  
Ow! Bloody hell, Hermione, what d'you-  
  
Repeat after you? OK.. I will not.. be prejudiced.. Herm, I am not prejudiced! OW! Fine! .against.. sexual preference. OK. Fine. I'm not prejudiced. Really.  
  
As if I would've ever had a problem with Harry sleeping with Finch- Fletchley. Did it have to be Malfoy?  
  
OW!  
  
OK! OK!  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------  
  
Part V-In Which There Is Aahh.Satisfaction  
  
When Harry awoke again it was nearing on nine o'clock and he realized he'd missed seeing off Hermione and Ron to Cambodia. Ah, well, they were probably too wrapped up in each other to notice. Speaking of wrapped up, he noticed someone in his arms that had definitely not been as cuddly two days ago. "Draco?"  
  
"Mmm.." Harry watched raptly as blond eyelashes fluttered briefly and the boy muttered something about Divinations homework and clutched Harry's forearms suddenly, still carrying on incoherently, and then relaxed, sleeping again. Harry smiled and tightened his arms about the boy's waist, wondering why he had never noticed how adorable the boy was until now.  
  
~*¢*~  
  
Draco woke gradually, becoming aware of arms wrapped tight round him and breath tickling his nose. Funny how the heros in stories never have bad breath. He opened his eyes to see Harry, sleeping soundly, and in spite of himself he smiled. Draco Malfoy, you are a poof. A poof. Do you know how dishonorable this is? Malfoys are not gay. Except Lucius died with the fall of Voldemort, and Narcissa never really cared which way Draco swung anyway.  
  
Why didn't they do this sooner, anyway?  
  
He realized that Harry was stirring and he kissed him softly, brushing unruly black hair out of the way. "..Draco?" Harry murmured against his lips and Draco murmured back, yes, it was him, and was he really staying for the winter holidays?  
  
Harry smiled and kissed him on the nose, told him Happy first day of hols and did he really take Divinations?  
  
Draco blushed.  
  
~*¢*~ 


End file.
